Born in Kfrawe, south Lebanon in 1965, Aoun graduated in fine arts from the Lebanese University in Beirut in 1989. He had an internship in graphic arts at the Institute of Fine Arts in Paris in 1993 and in 2004 received his master's degree in lithography from the Lebanese Academy of Fine Arts (ALBA) in Beirut. Since 1991, he was taught at his alma mater. He held many individual exhibitions in Beirut, mostly at Gallery Epreuve d'Artiste, ALBA, and Gallery Janine Rubeiz. Aborad, he exhibited his paintings at MAC 2000; Manif-MAC (Seoul 2003), Mers-Les-Bains, France in Milan (Magenta Gallery, 2006), and in Kuwait (Sultan Gallery 2007). From 1991 onwards, he has regularly shown his paintings at the Salons d'Automne of the Susock Museum in Beirut (1991 - 2010) and in many other group exhibitions in Paris, Strasbourg, Sharja (1995), Dubai (Lebanese stories show at the DIFC, Dubai, 2008)., and Cairo (International Biannual, Cairo, 1998)

He was awarded the first prize at House of the Future (1998), Lebanon in 1998, the Dorothy Salhab Kazemi prize for Young Artists at the Salon d'Automne of the Sursock Museum in (1991 & 1995), and the prize of the Jury of the Sharja Biennale in 1997. Youssef Aoun's work is permanently shown in Paris at Gallery Claudine Legrand and at the National Museum in Dubai.

His work can be found in public and private collections including the Sursock Museum, Beirut and the Audi Bank, Beirut.

His work is abstract expressionist with subtle play of the Lebanese luminosity of the Mediterranean Sea.

Press Article:

In meeting with Youssef Aoun early this week, I found him deep in conversation with a young German woman who is visiting Lebanon. They were, of course, talking about art, and more specifically about how cultural differences show up in art.

When she explained that she was here to explore Lebanese participation in a multinational exhibit she hopes to organize and show in Germany, I commented that she may not find Lebanese contemporary art much different than that of other countries. To my mind, cultural heritage carries little visible weight anymore in this shrinking world of ours.

We need to keep in mind that contemporary art today is a unified international activity, without national boundaries. Artist all over the world are utilizing the same universal language and styles of plastic art - albeit with varying idioms of expression - and their work is no longer marked by easy-to-see anecdotes of cultural identity.

This is not to say that peculiarities of expression linked to land, time and human experience do not exist. They do. As Picasso, always the Spaniard whose genius flourished in France, once remarked: "You can't get away from your own country." And in his art - in the bold drama and assurance of its images - he revealed the effusive energy, passion and spontaneity of his Spanish spirit.

I am looking the paintings of Youssef Aoun, I thought about how un-Lebanese they appear. But then I also thought about how un-Lebanese so much of Lebanon's art is these days, especially the art being produced by those whose childhood and young adulthood was marked by the experience of war and denied access to the blessings of nature and a normal life.

I say "un-Lebanese" because I remember how different the art of twenty years ago was, how ebullient and vibrant in color and expression, how much a paean of love for nature and all living it was.

Aoun was ten years old then the happy, peaceful security of his south Lebanon countryside childhood was shattered and his family moved into the intermittent bomb shelter existence of Beirut. He vividly remembers the years of colorless, nature-less, fearful, introspective living within walls and is shocked by how quickly and easily the Lebanese have been able to forgot the war and resume life as though nothing had happened. "It's like they have no memory," he says.

In his art, Aoun is still living within those walls, still imprisoned by the introspective images of a fearful existence, still disturbed by the deadly forces of human oppression. But slowly, insistently, the undying bright colors of his land begin to emerge.

Projected on the grayed and scarred walls he has recreated are his memories. We see human figures huddled or reclining in isolation, heads bowed or in fetal position. We see cord-bound bundles of lined suggesting bodies clothed for burial. We see limbless effigies to ward off evil.

But then we also see quietly assertive patches and circles of lovely color - salmon pinks, warm browns, pale translucent blues, caramel and canary yellows, soft reds, ivory whites and somber blacks. We think of a more livable Lebanon, but we see no peaceful greens.

The materials of Aoun's art drive largely from the land. He uses sand, cement, plaster, wood, hemp thread and marble dust, plus acrylic for color. Working on the floor and using a trowel and a broom, he applies thin layers of the various materials, one over the other. It is a slow process, he says, waiting impatiently for each layer to dry before he can apply the next.

Most of the works are quite large, some extending almost two meters up the gallery walls, and all are unforgettably impressive and handsome in their visual impact. At thirty-three, Aoun is still young as an artist, but the high quality and authenticity of his production shows an uncommon maturity of talent and skill that is bound to take him far.

In its preoccupation with the expressive and textural potential of dense earth materials, Aoun's work resembles that of the Spanish painter Tapies. They belong to the same international school of art and, on this level, reveal no evidence of differentiating cultural heritage. But how each artist has handled the materials, conceived the imagery and orchestrated the chromatic voice tells us that each belongs to a different land, time and experience. Tapies is abstract; Aoun is not. Tapies is intense drama, Aoun is poetic prose. Tapies uses color sparingly and in low key; Aoun wants to give color its full Lebanese rein.

How far and in what direction color will take Aoun, we have yet to see. Will he one day tear down the walls and bury memory? The signs are that he will, but cautiously, one step at a time.

The Daily Star, February 28, 1998, subtitled "Helen Khal finds a young artist who is exorcising the past by painting it", exhibition at Gallery Epreuve d'Artiste.